Hoodies And Bowties
by TrebleBlue
Summary: This is the first chapter of the story of how Vinyl Scratch and Octavia met and grew up next to each other. It's written mostly in anthro because I have a hard time keeping the fact that they're ponies in mind. First chapter is in Vinyl's point of view.
1. Hoodies and Bowties: Chapter One

Tavi' and I had been best friends since we were little fillies, even before our first day of school, and since then we'd always been there for each other no matter what. When I think about it, there wasn't any other way I'd have it be. There wasn't a thing we wouldn't do for each other, and that's the way it always was. We had met in the laundry room of our apartment complex. I was there doing laundry for my mom, who was sick. She was there with her big brother because they were just hiding out. At the time I had assumed they were just playing hide and seek, but hadn't any clue about how serious it was.

I was loading up a washer, even though I had to stand on an overturned laundry basket to reach. At first she looked a lot smaller and probably younger than me, that's what I would have guessed. She was a good couple inches shorter than myself with raven fine hair that trailed down to her mid back, at the time she was wearing a white button down shirt and a gray plaid skirt that went down to her mid calves. Her brother looked similar, only with pale hair. He was wearing gray khakis and a pale blue button down, he lead her in by the hand. Looking pale and like they'd never seen the room before, they wandered in looking around nervously. I glanced at them curiously, then checked out my own outfit. Mom usually made me run my choices under her watchful eye, but I did dress the way most kids in the city did. It wasn't Sunday, so I had no idea why those kids would be dressed so fancy. Maybe it was someone's birthday.

As they looked around the room, they began to become visibly more nervous. I looked at them just as the girl looked to me nervously. Trying to be polite, I smiled, then dropped a shirt into the washing machine.

"Oh geez, we don't have much time," the boy said, running his free hand through his hair. He was probably a few years older than myself.

"Trying to hide?" I asked. My voice was squeaky for my age, as if I were consistently undergoing a high pitched cold. I was also very unfamiliar with talking to strangers. Everyone I talked to was someone I had known for at least a year.

"Uh, yeah," the kid said.

"I can help you," I said, hopping down from the basket. He looked relieved and skeptical at the same time. I took the girl's free hand and gave it a gentle tug. She looked from me to her brother, then stepped closer to him.

"I can't hide you both in the same place," I explained to her. "You won't both fit." She gave a nervous glance to her brother again, then when he nodded, stepped forward to me. I took her hand once more, it was so much warmer than mine, this fact is burnt into my mind even to this day. I lead her to the dryers, which had stopped a little while ago. I opened one up and took out some of the towels and placed them on top. Gesturing for her to go inside, she looked at me with a pair of terrified eyes. They were a cloudy violet color, another fact that clawed it's way into my mind, but not until years after we had met.

"Don't worry, they're clean. You just don't want an empty dryer 'cause it'll poke you in the back," I said to her. She didn't say a word, just nodded and got inside.

"You'll definitely be able to breathe in here," I said. "I once waited fifteen minutes in one of these because the kid looking for me forgot he was playing." She smiled, and I remember feeling distinctly proud of being able to make her smile. And with that, I closed the door and turned to her brother.

"Okay. You look big, but not too big to fit in a basket," I said, taking the towels from on top of the dryer. I took the basket of clothes I had been loading into the washer and pulled out some of the clothes.

"Hop in," I instructed, tilting the basket. He stepped onto the empty basket and lowered himself in, I then proceeded to pile towels on him. It was hard to get the towels around him so he looked like a pile of clothes, but after a while he just looked like an overflowing laundry basket.

"Thank you so much," I heard him say. His voice was muffled by the clothes on him, but I kicked the basket anyway.

"Shut up, towels don't talk," I pointed out, then hopped up on my standing basket. Now was time for my acting skills. For a little while, no one came in, and I just stood at the washer staring out the window, but after a while I heard big clunky steps coming from down the hall. I started plucking little things from the basket so as not to give away the boy's location and tossing them in. A moment later, a tall, ginger haired man came stomping into the room. I looked to him, then back to the clothes. The point was to make it seem ordinary. He looked grumpy, but I had no doubt he was looking for the boy and his sister. Some people take hide and seek way too seriously. He stomped around for a minute, looking behind washers and into the trash can.

"You, girl," he said. His voice was scratchy and boomed as though he wanted to prove some sort of point. I turned and looked at him, cocking my head.

"Yeah mister?" I asked. He wasn't standing very steady, and I wondered why that was. He gave me a look like I should shut up and get to the point, but I didn't know what point I was supposed to get to.

"I'm looking for two kids, a girl and a boy, you hear?" he boomed.

"Okay," I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"Well have you _seen _them?" he asked.

"No, I've been by myself the whole time," I replied. He scrunched up his eyes.

"You lying?" he asked.

"Nuh-uh," I shook my head. He got really close to me then, and even standing on the basket I was still a lot smaller than him.

"Look at me! Are you lying?" he asked again. He didn't smell good. You would think he would, since he was dressed like his son, but he smelled like something you'd clean the floor with.

"No, mister," I rephrased. "Why would I lie about something as stupid as that?" He squinted at me a moment longer, then nodded.

"Yeah, okay. I believe you," he said. He stood really solemn for a moment, then smiled.

"Heh. You're a bright kid," he told me, clapping me on the shoulder. He looked at me a little longer, then shook his head and left the room. Even now that he wasn't so tense, he stomped his feet. I stared off at the door way where he was. Something seemed off about him. After a moment, I hopped off the basket and ran to the door to peak out.

"It's safe," I called, running to the other side fo the room to free the girl from the dryer. Once it opened she began to climb out, I helped her stand steady, but only succeeded in dragging her out and letting her dangle until she regained her balance. All the while, I giggled at how gangly she was. At first, she pouted, then an eventual smile broke out and she laughed with me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and for a split second I thought the man was back. Looking back, it was just the boy.

"Thank you so much," he said.

"You're welcome," I smiled. We stood around awkwardly for a moment, then the boy stuck out his hand.

"I'm Chase," he said confidently. I took his hand and gave it a good shake.

"Vinyl Scratch," I said.

"It's nice to meet you," a small voice behind me said. I turned around to see the little girl looking up at me with those little violet eyes.

"I'm Octavia," she held out her hand.

"Nice to meet you too," I said, then paused. "So was that your dad?" They shared a look that I didn't understand, then nodded.

"Yeah, that's our father," Chase admitted.

"He takes hide and seek seriously, doesn't he?" I asked. He hesitated, then nodded.

"Yeah, but I think he forgot," he replied.

"I see."

"Vinyl?" I turned around to see my mom standing in the doorway. She was skinny and a lighter color than me, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her nose was red from her cold, but other than that she was my same beautiful mother.

"Salut, ma-ma," I said cheerfully.

"C'est qui?" she asked.

"C'est mes amis," I replied, telling her they were friends.

"Okay, well lunch is ready," she announced. "Tell your friends they can come too." I looked to Chase and Octavia.

"Do you guys wanna have lunch with us?" I asked. Chase immediately nodded, Octavia looked a bit pensive.

"It's okay, Tavi', Father's probably forgotten already," he told his sister.

"Okay," she murmured.

"Let's go then," Mom said. We all turned to go, but Octavia hung back. I stopped and held my hand out to her. Slowly, she took my hand and we started walking.

"So is your father gonna be there too?" she asked me.

"No," I told her. "It's just me and my mommy. I don't have a daddy."

**Okay so first story, hope you liked it. Some of you may be mad that it's with human ponies, but I prefer to work with their personalities. Message me if you'd like me to keep it up. Next story will be from Octavia's point of view. **


	2. Hoodies and Bowties: Chapter Two

I don't know if Vinyl knew it, either then or in the following years, but she really saved me that day. Her innocent antics kept us from being caught by our father, which is something Chase and I were grateful for to no end. Every day back then was a struggle to get by with someone as unbearable as our father. I never liked admitting it, I still don't now, but Father was a very violent and sick man. Not sick as in demented, more like… misguided.

Father was mad that day, something about our mother not being as welcoming as he knew she could be. He fought with her a bit while Chase and I hid in my room, and calmed down after a one sided shouting match with my mother. After a while, we figured we were in the clear, until we heard a cracking sound and Father yelling again. We sat quietly and wondered what could have set him off when Chase let out a gasp. I quickly covered his mouth before he did it himself. Slowly, we removed our hands from his face.

"My social studies project!" he whispered to me. "I must have left it out on the table." My eyes widened gravely, Father hated it when we left our things out on the table. All that valuable space for his bottles wasted on our school work.

"Chase!" a raspy voice called, muffled by the thin walls.

"We have to get out of here," he whispered. I made a move to stand up, but he pulled me back down.

"Wait a second," he said. As we sat on the floor I listened to the sound of Father's loud footsteps as he passed my bedroom door and down the hall. Quickly, Chase got up and went to my door in a fashion that made it clear how he had gotten his cutie mark, which was a gust of wind. He opened the door and gestured for me to get up.

"Okay, now," he said quietly, waving through the door. I was up on my feet in less than half the time he was and out the door before our father could catch us. We were in the living room by the time he noticed we were about, crossing to the front door as he began after us. Silently, Chase ran to the front door and opened it, waiting for me to go through. Just as we were out the door, Father appeared in the living room and Chase slammed the door shut in a fit of panic. We stood dumbstruck for a moment and stared at each other in shock at what Chase had just done. If leaving something on the table was like a spark for Father, slamming doors was like pouring gasoline on an open flame.

"We've got to move," Chase said, taking my shoulder and turning me around. "Run." I took off, my plain white sneakers pounding on the ground with all the weight that my five year old self could manage. Chase was up ahead of me, but would check every now and then to make sure I was there. He ran up to he elevator, just as the door opened and stepped inside. As he pressed a button, I followed him in, only to be pushed out again.

"We're not actually taking the elevator," he told me. Her pointed to the door for the stairwell and I took off running for it. Naturally, he got to the door first and opened it for me. He slowly closed it, but not fast enough that we couldn't hear our father yelling angrily after us.

"With any hope, we bought ourselves some time with the elevator," he explained. "He'll think we took it and go to _that _floor. We have to keep going though."

My family lived on the sixth floor of the apartment complex in Phillydelphia, I remember because we moved in the sixth of June a couple years before, and this I remember because Father, Mother and I picked up Chase on his very last day of school. '_We're done living in this shit-hole, kids. They can't handle us. No siree.' _What Father had meant by that was we had too many complaints from our neighbors and if we didn't leave soon, the police were going to start knocking on our door and asking about our bruises.

Chase and I ran through the halls and down flights of stairs until we got to the basement level, we turned the corner just outside the stairwell door and caught our breath. Down here there was no natural light, everything tinted green from pale lights overhead and air that I could almost see. It was so warm I had actually begun sweating, so I wiped my brow with my arm. Chase was checking his pulse, something he had become very adamant about since his gym classes, but stopped when he looked at me. I don't think he actually knew how to check his pulse. He smiled at me and help up a hand.

"We did it, 'Tavi," he smiled as I tapped my palm against his.

"Almost," I commented.

"Huh?"

"We _almost did it. He's going to find us," I rephrased. _

"_That's quitter talk. We just have to find us a nice place to hide, is all." And with that we were off again at a snail's pace, checking doors to rooms. Most were locked, but at some point there was a door handle that gave way as Chase jiggled it. The door swung inward and we were greeted by a sweet and musky smell. The room before us was completely unlike anything I'd ever seen. Trash was everywhere and stains spotted the carpet of all colors. The furniture, though ripped and also stained, was upright and illuminated by a TV screen. In a recliner sat a fat man in a robe and shorts that didn't seem to fit him well. On the screen that lit up the room was a man's face looking determined as he faced downward, then it flashed to a woman's face, eyes closed and from what I could see she was naked. _

"_Is there something I can help you with?" the man asked, standing from his chair. _

"_Oh, no," Chase said, his voice nervous," we just got a little lost, I think." The man nodded and shifted his gaze to me, then back to Chase. _

"_You can stay here if you like," he gestured around the room. _

"_Th-that's okay. We're just looking for the laundry room," Chase explained. From the TV, a loud moan made it's way from the apartment into the hall. To me, it sounded like the woman had stubbed her toe, but something about it made Chase grab my arm and pull me further from the door. The man glanced at the TV and frowned. _

"_Laundry room is down the hall, the door is open for it," he pointed to our left. _

"_Thanks," Chase said, pulling me away. As we walked from the apartment I heard the floor creaking and looked back to find the man had left the apartment and was watching us go. Upon seeing me glancing at him, he smiled a certain smile and waved. Something about the way his teeth were yellow and his mouth partially lopsided behind a pale beard gave a shudder down my back. I turned away and followed my brother. _

_Chase lead me into the laundry room that was mostly empty, except for a girl that looked to be about my age or older standing on a basket and putting clothes into a washer. As Chase looked around the room for a place to hide, I watched the girl. She was dressed very sloppily, a white t-shirt with little stains on it and jeans that had holes worn into the knees. Her shoes were pink and unlaced, her hair a turquoise blue with navy blue streaks in it. As we walked in, she glanced at us and flashed us a smile. _

"_Oh geez, we don't have much time," Chase mused, running his hand through his hair. I opened my mouth to point out that it would take Father a little while to find us, but was quickly interrupted. _

"_Trying to hide?" the girl in front of the dryer asked. Her voice was very squeaky, and sounded as though she was even younger than I. The moment I looked at her, I froze. Her eyes were an unnatural violent red that shocked me to my core. I had never seen it before, and it gave her the disposition that she was other very sick or might attack me at any moment. Chase paused, then nodded, then let go of my hand. _

"_Um, yeah," he agreed. _

"_I can help you," she said as she jumped off the basket and landed with a thud. Her posture was very odd. Her left shoulder sagged a little more than the right and her right leg bent just slightly. The second she was close to me, she grabbed my hand in a too-tight grip and smiled at me, tugging on my arm. I looked to Chase and took a step towards him, relinquishing my hand from hers. _

"_I can't hide you both," she said. "You won't fit." I looked to Chase again, only to see him nod. Silently I let out a breath and stepped closer to her girl, who took my hand again. She brought me to a dryer and threw in some towels, then gestured at me to climb on in. I shot her a skeptical look, but she only rolled her red, red eyes at me. _

"_Don't worry, they're clean. You just don't want an empty dryer 'cause it'll poke you in the back," she explained. Knowing I was going to dread what I was about to do, I clambered into the dryer and sat down. The girl leaned down and looked in, those eyes shocking me enough to press myself further inside._

"_You'll definitely be able to breathe in here," she told me. "I once waited fifteen minutes in one of these 'cause the kid looking for me forgot we were playing." I wondered for a moment how someone like this could possibly have any friends, but the idea made me smile all the same. After that, she didn't say anything. She just shut the door to leave me in the dark. _

_And for the first time in my life, the dark didn't seem so scary. _


	3. Hoodies and Bowties: Chapter Three

My apartment was on the seventh floor, chosen by my mother because she liked being able to see over most of the buildings. On a good night you could sit out on the fire escape and get a good look of an orange skyline and if you sat high enough, you could see bits and pieces of countryside. But it was far from twilight hour on the day I had helped Octavia and her brother, Chase, hide from their father in the laundry room. Our mother invited them to come up to the seventh floor for lunch with us, where she had made grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. Before we stepped inside, Chase and Octavia both slipped off their shoes and picked them up.

"Why do you do that?" I asked Octavia.

"I don't know," she muttered to me. I didn't really like the answer I got, but then again I didn't really care. My shoes thumped the floor when I kicked them off in no particular direction. The two looked around our apartment, possibly comparing it to theirs, and I just stood there with an awkward mix of pride and irritation.

"Kitchen is this way," Mom said, gesturing broadly with her hand. She stood about a head over Chase, who wasn't very tall to begin with. The apartment was decorated in my mother's odd style. The furniture in our living room was different shades of a pale orange color, and the walls a deeper orange. All the rooms were like that, with the furniture being lighter shades than the wall. The kitchen was my favorite room, because Mom didn't let her talent go to waste. Instead of tiles on the walls, there were broken glass plates partially reassembled all around and glued to a navy blue paint. The table was small and round, each chair of a different style and color. I made a beeline for my favorite aquamarine chair, while Octavia took the brown one between my mother and Chase. Our fridge was maroon, covered in photos of Mom and me, my art, her art. She made sure that every picture of mine went on the front, where everyone could see, and hung hers onto the sides even though I said I liked hers better. The counter was originally just granite, but once Mom got a hold of it it was covered in splatters of the rainbow.

I could see Octavia and Chase gazing about, Chase wonder struck at the décor, Octavia looking very confused.

"You never seen a kitchen before?" I asked her as Mom placed a plate of sandwich in front of me.

"Vinyl, être poli," Mom scolded, telling me to be polite. I slinked down in my chair.

"Je suis désolé, Mama." Chase began to gulp down his sandwich as though he had never eaten before, and Octavia even had an appetite. They ate with clear hunger, while Mom and I took our bites slowly.

"So what floor are you from?" Mom asked, sipping her water.

"Sixth," Chase said between bites. "Not too high, not too low." Mom smiled and nodded.

"Just under us, huh?" she asked. He nodded.

"Guess so," he agreed.

"Is it any different from the other floors?" I asked. To this, Chase chuckled.

"Afraid not," he replied. I nodded widely. He and his sister had mostly finished their food, Octavia stared blankly at her plate.

"Do you want more?" I asked her. She shook her head slowly. I crammed the last bit of sandwich in my mouth and chewed quickly in a viscous imitation of Chase

"Slow down, Vinyl. You'll get hiccups," Mom warned. I nodded and slowed my chompers.

"What grade are you in?" Mom asked.

"I'm in seventh grade," he replied," Octavia hasn't started school yet."

"Huh, neither has Vinyl. She starts next year."

"So does Octavia," Chase remarked.

"Maybe we'll be in the same class," I said excitedly. Mom smiled at me.

"Why don't you show Octavia your room, Vinyl?" she said. I pondered the quiet girl, but shrugged.

"Do you want to see my room?" I turned to her. To my surprise, her raven head rocked into a slow nod.

"Okay let's go, it's this way," I said, hopping from my chair. She slid off and followed me. I took off running, expecting her to follow, but stopped a few feet away when she didn't run. Outside, I waited patiently but I wanted nothing more than for her to hurry up. We had a lot of ground to cover! When she caught up with me I took her hand again and tugged on it to get her moving faster. When we finally got to my room I watched as her head rose and her violet eyes widened.

Like the rest of the house, my room was composed of shades corresponding to the wall. The color, of course, was blue. My walls were a deep electric blue, my curtains plaid navy blue and white, my bed frame royal blue and the blankets turquoise. The floor was white, but littered with my stuffed animals and my play keyboard. I couldn't play very well, but I could play chopsticks like nobody's business.

"This is my room," I announced, emphasis on _my. _"My mama decorated it after I was born because she wanted it to match me." I stooped over and picked up my prized teddy, Jimmy, who held a little plastic guitar in his hand.

"This is Jimmy, I've had him forever and he's my best friend," I explained, as though it were vital information that Octavia would need to know some day. She regarded him thoughtfully, and reached out to him. Quick as a flash, I pulled him away. She looked disappointed, and I pouted. No one, I repeat, no one, touches Jimmy. Even my other best friends didn't get to touch him. She seemed as though she had half expected that I would do that, but had really hoped I wouldn't. I felt as if by holding him away from her I was somehow hurting Octavia. Which was weird, because I had literally hurt kids before and felt no remorse. With a sigh, I held Jimmy out to her and watched with near anxiety as she took him delicately and gave him a nice once over.

"I like him," she said, handing him back. "He's very soft." I smiled when she returned him, happy that I got him back quickly. My pride for the toy didn't last long, and I tossed him onto the bed.

I showed Octavia the grand tour of my room, my toys, my closet and my radio. We then went on to see the rest of the apartment. Mom's room (shades of rose), the bathroom (shades of yellow) her studio (shades of everything) and the den (shades of green). In the kitchen I saw Mom and Chase still talking, as he wolfed down another sandwich, and I wondered how many he'd had since we left. When it was over, Octavia and I went back to my room were we sat on my bed. Normally, I squirm a lot, but today I was able to sit quietly and listen to what she said.

"I really like your house," she said, her voice barely a mumble as she colored with in my _Fairly Oddponies _coloring book. I looked up from my half colored _Sleeping Filly_ picture.

"Thanks. Mama decorates it all. She's an artist, you know," I said. She nodded, then picked up a red crayon.

"So why are you so quiet all the time?" I asked. In my mind, this seemed like a very normal question, but now... I'd probably still see it as valid as well. To this, she just shrugged.

"I don't know. Just not much to talk about, I guess," she replied. I drew up my back and tried to be official, like my friend Steel did when he was about to say something important.

"Well I think you should talk _more. _Did you ever think of that?" She looked up, curiosity burning in her eyes.

"Why?" she asked. Now it was my turn to shrug.

"I just like the way you talk, you know? You pronounce everything," I explained. Her eyes widened briefly then she bent back down over the coloring book, but I could still see her smile. For a moment longer, I watched her, then turned back to my picture. I wasn't very good at it, my colors all went outside the lines, mixing into the other colors. Cautiously, I took a peak at her picture. Bland colors, all brown and gray and black, but neatly tucked into the black likes of the picture. I furrowed my brow, but didn't dwell on it long. I faced my picture and continued to color.

"Do your eyes ever bother you?" she said after a long time. I looked up, uncertain.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean your eyes are red," she noted. I rolled my eyes.

"Duh, what's so bad about it?" I asked.

"Don't people make fun of you?" she asked me. This question made me fidget uncomfortably in my spot. No one likes admitting that they get teased, so why was she asking?

"Sometimes. But I'm not supposed to listen to them," I replied.

"Why?"

"Because... because they don't know me, I think," I explained. "My mama always tells me that I shouldn't listen to the mean things people say because they don't know who I really am. If they don't know who I really am, how can they say anything about me?" Octavia tilted her head to the side just a little, but nodded.

"Does that work for everyone?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Never mind," she muttered, turning back to the book. I watched her, trying to make sense of her question. Could what work for everyone? Ignoring mean words? I suppose it could.

"I think it does," I said after a moment. She looked back up.

"What?"

"I think it works for everyone, otherwise everybody would be crying all the time," I told her. Her eyes glazed over as she processed this, then she smiled.

"I guess so," she said with a smile. I smiled back at her, feeling a spot in my chest go hard against my throat. For some reason, I felt awkward to look at her, so I bent my head and started coloring again.

"And Vinyl?" her tiny, literate voice asked. I looked up.

"Uhuh?"

"I like your eyes anyway," she said shyly. I nearly froze, unfamiliar with this form of compliment. What do you do when someone says this? I began to reply, stuttered, then started again.

"I... I really like your eyes too."


End file.
